The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1887-06-10
CHAPTER III.
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the day at Dum's Ness, he was not in a very
good mood.
In the long, oak paneled room used indif-
ferently as a sitting and dining room, Mr..
Cardus found "Hard Riding Atterleigh" and
his granddaughter, little Dorothy Jones. The
old man was already seated at table, and
Dorothy was busying herself cutting bread
looking as composed and grown up as though
she had been "a instead of IA. She was a
strange child, with her assured air and
woman's ways and dress, her curious, thought
full face and her large blue eyes that shone
steady as the light Of lamp. But just now
the little face was more anxious than usual.
"Reginald," she began as soon as be was in
the room Qor, by Mr.. Cardus' wish, she
always called him by his Christian name), II
am sorry to tell you that there has been sad
disturbance"
"What is itl" he asked, with frown;
Jeremy againl" Mr. Cardus could be very
stern where Jeremy was concerned.
"Yes, am afraid it is The two boysn--
but it was unnecessary for her to carry her
explanations further, for at that moment the
swing door opened, and through it appeared
the young gentlemen In question, driven in
like sheep by the beady eyed Grice. Ernest
was leading, attempting the impossible feat
OF looking jaunty with lump of raw beef
steak tied over one eye and presenting gen.
eral appearance that suggested the idea of the
colors Of the rainbow In state Of decompo-
sition.
Behind him shuffled Jeremy, his matted
locks still wet from being pumped on. But
his wounds were either unsuted to the dread
full remedy Of raw beefsteak, or Ee had
adopted in preference an heroic one of his
own, Of which grease pentifully sprinkled
with flour formed the basis
For moment there was silence, then Mr..
Cardus, with awful politeness, asked Jeremy
what was the meaning Of this.
"We've been fighting" answered the boy,
sulkily. ale hit"-
"Thank. you, Jeremy, I don't want the par
ticulars, but will take this opportunity to
tell you before your sister and my nephew
what think of you. You are a boor and a
lout, and, what is more, you are a coward"
Atthis unjust taunt the lad colored to his
eyes.
Eyes, you may color, but let me tell you
that it is cowardly to pick a quarrel with a
boy the moment he sets foot inside my
doors
"I say, uncle" broke in Ernest, who was
unable to see anything cowardly about fight
ing, an amusement to which he was rather
partial himself, and who thought that his
late antagonist was getting more than his
due, II began it, you know"
1T was not true, except in the sense that he
had begun it by striking the dog; nor did
this statement produce any great effect upon
Mr.. Cardus, who was evidently seriously
angry with Jeremy on more points than this.
But at least it was one Of those well meant
fibs at which the recording angel should not
be offended.
~ do not care who began it," went on
MIR. Cardus, angrily, 'nor is it about this
only that am angry. You are discredit
to me, Jeremy, and discredit to your sister.
You are dirty, you are idle; your ways are
not those of gentleman. / sent you to
school-you ran away. l give you good
clothes-you will not wear them l tell you,
boy, that will not stand it any longer. Now
listen 1 am going to make arrangements
with Mr. Halford, the clergyman at Kester-
wick, to undertake Ernest's education You
shall go with him. and il see no improve
ment in your ways in the course Of the next
few months, shall wash my hands of you.
Do you understand me nowp
The boy Jeremy had, during this oration,
been standing in the middle of the room, first
on one leg, then on the other. At its con-
clusion he brought the leg that was at the
moment in the air down to the ground and
stood firm.
"Well," went on Mr.. Cardus, "what have
you to sayp
II have to say" blurted out Jeremy, "that
l don't want your education You care
nothing about me-" he went on, his gray
eyes flashing, and his heavy face lighting up;
nobody cares about me except my dog Nails
Yes, you make dog of me myself; you
throw things to me as / throw Nails bone
l don't want your education, and | won't
have it. l don't want the fine clothes you
buy for me, and won't wear them. don't
want to be burden on you, either. Let me
go away and be fisher lad and earn my
bread. II it hadn't been for her." pointing to
his sister, who was sitting aghast at his out
burst, "and for Nails, I'd have gone long ago, !
can tell you. At any rate should not be a
dog then. should be earning my living, and
have no one to thank for it. Let me go,
| say, where l sha'nt be Knocked at if do my
fair days work. I'm strong enoughl let me
60 There! I've spoken my mind now;" and
the lad broke out into storm of tears, and,
turning, tramped out of the room
As he went, Mr.. Cardus' wrath seemed to
leave him.
81 did not think he had so much spirit in
him" he said, aloud. "Well, let us have our
dinner.n
At dinner the conversation tagged, the
scene that preceded it having presumably
left painful impression; and Ernest, who
was an observant youth, fell 10 watching
little Dorothy doing the honors of the table,
cutting up her crazed old grandfather's food
for him, seeing that everybody had what they
wanted, and generally making herself obtru-
sively useful In due course the rfieal came
to an end, and MIR. Cardus and old After
leigh departed back to the office, leaving
Dorothy alone with Ernest. Presently the
former began to talk.
81 hope that your eye is not painful" she
said. Jeremy hits very hard"
"Oh, no, it's all right. I'm used to it.
When was at school in london often used
TO fight. I'm sorry for him, though-your
brother, mean"
Jeremy oh, yes, he's always in trouble,
and now suppose that II will be worse than
ever. do all can to keep things smooth,
but il is no good, II he won't go to Mr..
Halford's, am sure don't know what will
happen" and the little lady sighed deeply.
"Oh, dare say that he will go. Let's go
and look for him and try and persuade him. "
"We might try" she said, doubtfully.
"Stop minute, and | will put on my hat,
and then II you will take that nasty thing Off
your eye we might walk out TO Kesterwick.
want to take book, out Of which have
been teaching myself French, back TO the
cottage, where old Miss Ceswick lives, you
know
"All right" said Ernest
Presently Dorothy returned, and they went
out by the back way 10 a little room near the
coach house, where Jeremy stuffed birds and
kept his collections of eggs and butterflies; /;
but he was not there. On inquiring OF samp-
son, the old Scotch gardener who looked after
Mr., Cardus' orchid houses, she discovered
that Jeremy had gono out TO shoot snipe,
having borrowed Simpsons gun for that
purpose.
They passed through the old house which
was built ON little ness or headland that tut
ted beyond the level OF the shore line, and
across which the wind swept and raved all
the winter long, driving the great waves In